


Septette for the Dead Prince

by ItsAllCringe



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akira bastardization arc, Cue the Rumble of Scientific Triumph in the background, Eventual Shuake, If I continue, Incredibly OOC and self indulgent, M/M, Mementos (Persona 5), No beta we die like Yaldabaoth, Please do not expect a happy ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25649359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsAllCringe/pseuds/ItsAllCringe
Summary: Akira Kurusu dies in the netherworld. Something else arises from his ashes.Or:Akira becomes a god and does no better than his predecessor.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

It comes to him in dizzying blue fire that licks at his ankles, threatening to consume him whole.

He earns it by near pulling his face off. It promises to help him search and search for something to call his own, no matter the cost.

Akira cannot pinpoint anything that he could call his own. He is a series of mirrors, reflecting back what others want to see, but unable to truly be “himself”. There is no true Akira kurusu, just Akira Kurusu’s for every person that comes along.

It says that he will find something to call his own, even if he has to steal from others for it. As if he hadn't been doing that his whole life.

It introduces him into a new type of stealing from others in that other world. Take their forms, consume what makes them themself and maybe he will find something of his own hidden away within them.

He consumes and consumes, stronger and stronger, but nothing for him hidden away.

He finds the bottom of the netherworld and kills a god.

He finds it then, broken and battered among the shattered remains of a fake god just starting to grab at the reins of humanity.

Its his, he decides then. Steals parts of its form, golden bells chiming as the victor takes and takes from that which was never meant to own it in the first place.

He does not leave that day. Akira Kurusu dies in the netherworld and something else rises from the ashes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I!!! Literally pumped this out at two in the morning after playing nothing but idv and sky for a week straight so I'll make corrections later but for now come get yall juice

The Crow awakens out of its reach, on a boat with pride etched into wood floors and every inch of it’s metal hull, built from the bones of the useless only meant to be used as stepping stones towards an ultimate goal.

The crow contains multitudes, a privilege even it never truly earned for itself. Copying is one thing, holding multiple whole beings within oneself is outside of his expertise.

It takes some time for the Crow to return to the metaverse. Of all its time spent lurking within the depths, it’s never once sensed another persona user disturbing the quiet of the metaverse. It welcomes the Crow- it is far too silent and lonely without some sort of companion.

It was not anticipating the Crow’s arrival this time, and so unfortunately it cannot properly meet the Crow- not this time at least. The Crow can barely access upper floors- even it cannot cross the distance between the depths and the higher floors in a manner timely enough to catch the Crow before they disappear.

Next time.

* * *

As absurd the place itself may be, the possibilities concealed within ‘mementos’ are far too vast for Goro to stay away. He’s not entirely sure  _ what _ mementos truly is, not yet, but the way he accesses it- the same way he did that bastard’s of a… distortion? Was that what the app had called it, asking for input? The fact that he enters mementos through the same app he used to access Shido’s distortion implies that the two are connected in some way.

Mementos does not carry the same air as Shido’s distortion, sickening displays of pride nowhere to be found. Goro finds himself likening mementos more to a heart, what with the veins that stick to the high walls, giving off a sickening, pulsating glow.

The entrance is fairly close to a regular subway station as long as the fleshy growths that spread out from under concrete columns are ignored. Descending to the first real ‘level’, attempting to squint past the railroad tracks and into the darkness beyond yields little results. It’s like a particularly foggy day, early in the morning where the only way to see what’s further ahead is to venture in.

Goro glances down at his phone, suddenly alive and demanding his attention after his descent into the first level. Swiping it open reveals the Metaverse navigator displaying a map… of sorts. It seems rather general and nonsensical, labeling his current position as on the “Path of Quimranut”

That’s… what?

He’s not entirely sure on the etymology of the word, but his curiosity can be satisfied in due time, when he isn’t standing in what could be considered hell. Or… maybe considering it something more eldritch and otherworldly would be more appropriate. A cursory search of the location from the previous night yielded nothing truly useful, nothing applicable to this other world.

The only way to gather information seems to be diving in headfirst and hoping that he comes out alive.

* * *

Goro is almost entirely sure one of the ‘shadows’, as Robin Hood has been calling them, is following him. He knows, just barely being past the entrance, that nothing  _ too _ strong should be able to truly harm him. That’s how most adventures work, right? The heroes discover a new world, and don’t reach the truly powerful enemies until they are properly acclimated with it.

In reality, this is no hero’s journey. Goro was never fit to be considered one in the first place.

His persona almost seems worried at the shadow’s presence, warning him of things he is not yet fit to be facing. Really, it’s sound advice, dying in the domain of some eldritch creature is not and never will be on his agenda, but…

Turning around means facing the thing, trying to outwit it has only resulted in Goro nearly getting caught in dead end after dead end, so the only way he has to go is down.

It’s then that it occurs to Goro that the creature may be trying to corral him, it’s almost as if mementos itself is lending itself to its whims, pushing Goro deeper and deeper until he can’t possibly get out.

Goro decides, then and there, that he is not going to be taken down in an otherworldly hell, pushed as far as he can go, weak as he can get before the thing pounces.

He is not prey, and at the very least he  _ will _ be putting up a fight, whether or not this thing will like it or not.

As another of those loops appear in mementos’ ever twisting structure, Goro makes a beeline for it. That’s when he truly senses it, with a gaze that bores into his back, making the hair on his neck stand up straight. It feels wrong, like something that truly shouldn’t exist, even in this otherworldly hell. If looks could kill, he’d have been dead the second he stepped foot in this thing’s domain. At least, within this loop, he may have a chance to make a break for the escalators, maybe even reaching the entrance if he’s lucky enough- or the shadow is merciful enough.

He stops on the other end of the loop from where he entered, feeling the thing hesitate to enter. Once Goro truly registered it’s presence, it became a hard thing to ignore. It pauses again, a relatively safe distance from Goro.

Bringing the lazer sword with him had felt quite silly at first but now, it’s heat felt through his clothes, it’s the only thing that makes him think he may have a chance against the thing that had been stalking him throughout this other world.

Bolting around the corner, sword held in front of him, ready to peirce-

Goro does not come face to face with some otherworldly, lovecraftian horror that had been waiting for him to gather all his courage, only to devour him and deliver threefold the pain he’d been so worried for his entire venture down here. Instead, Goro finds himself threatening something nearly as human-looking as he is, possibly shorter than he, even if only by a small amount.

A mop of black hair almost as long as Goro’s, bangs that cover the eyes- possibly the least intimidating thing he’s encountered all day. They’re holding their hands up like they’re surrendering or something, and the geometric, gold colored tattoos that spread along the arms almost seem to glint in the low light.

Then his eyes go up, and he remembers why he was so worried about this thing and it’s more-than-concerning presence.

Shining in the dim light of mementos are four mechanical ‘arms’ spread from the stranger’s back, each with a unique attachment. A gun in the upper left, a sword in the lower complimented by a bell that chimes softly and makes his ears ring in the upper right, and a book in the lower.

Goro is very quickly reminded of the near-absurd natures of shadows within this world, and the fact that he thought someone truly  _ human _ could exist down here and house that kind of presence makes him want to laugh out loud. Naive and foolish as he was.

It speaks after a long silence.

“The Crow…”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'll make corrections later" I said, like a liar.  
> Tbh this fic is just me writing down whatever jumps into my brain that pertains to this au at all. I'm just having fun because the last couple fics i tried to start never got out of google docs because I spent so long just... working things out that I straight up lost interest after a month or two of hashing things out. I hope I can start on some of those I worked on in the past one day cause I really liked them and liked the idea of them.  
> Hope y'all enjoy what I put in this anyway.

Crow? No, that’s not important. His first priority should be escaping this alive and hopefully in one piece.

Goro does not lower his blade, instead opting to point it at the thing’s forehead. Most humanoid things tend to die after being dealt severe trauma to the head, most others are no longer a threat once you take their head, and cease functioning soon after.

“You-” Goro snarls at the shadow before him, a shadow that has caused him so much grief and stress, and pushed him so deep into mementos that he probably won't be getting back until  _ midnight _ \- “what do you want from me? What’s your damn problem? It’s pretty cowardly to just corner someone so they can’t fight back.”

“I wasn’t-”

“You stalked me down three floors!”

“The shadows left you alone, did they not?”

Goro wants to scream, to take out a wall with the lazer sword still warm in his hands. How dense can one be?! The other shadows left him alone because he was being stalked by something leagues more powerful than they, not because he was being actively protected!

“Okay- um- sorry? I simply wish to speak with you, mementos has been rather empty for quite some time now…”

Goro eyes the shadow’s attachments, bell silent for now, then makes what he may consider the stupidest decision of his life.

“Fine, only at the entrance though.”

The Crow does very little to hide his suspicion while they speak, and skirts around the details surrounding himself and his persona, twisting the question back onto it. It’s just as willing to give information out as the Crow is, which is the bare minimum. No, it does not believe it has a persona (not anymore, but Crow doesn’t need to know it had one at all. Too many questions)

They forge a… deal of sorts. The Crow will come into mementos regularly and it will keep the shadows he doesn’t want to “put up with” away from him. In return, it gets someone to talk to for that duration. Their deal sounds like it benefits the Crow much more than it does it, but Crow has little else to offer.

The Crow asks for it’s name before he leaves, and while it kept its composure outwardly, mentally it was scrambling for something, any name it could remember that didn’t obviously belong to a shadow already.

“Arsène. That’s what you can call me.”

Arsène, he thinks, is an oddly familiar name, even though he’s not sure why.

* * *

“Crow, I don’t know who these philosophers are. I can’t speak with you about them on the same level.”

“You… this is rather basic. You have never read a textbook on it in a class? Or come across one in the chests here?”

“Those aren’t for me.”

Goro squints at Arsène. “Not for you? Then who are they for?”

“You. Others who pass through. The things inside offer no worth to me. I don’t need them, so they’re not for me.”

“...you are aware of how useless everything inside of those are?”

“Oh, intimately so.”

“Then what’s the point of leaving them out if nobody needs them?”

Arsène gives him a look- one that screams ‘are you dense or just trying to run me in circles?’. “You can sell them, no? People will take all kinds of useless junk. You just have to look for who will.”

If Goro were literally anybody else, he’d jump at the chance of more cash. But considering he had somewhat of a reputation to uphold, finding someone potentially shady to buy the most useless things he’s ever seen would be out of the question.

“I can’t do that”

“Then leave things you don’t need for someone else.”

“Someone else? Has anyone else even been down here?”

“No, no. Not yet. I think”

Vague and not at all reassuring. Something tells Goro that’s going to become par for the course.

* * *

The blue door mocks him from the corner of his eye. It’s ornately designed, shimmering gold wrapping around the knob, a V etched into it, and gold trim around the edges of the door. Taking a tentative hold of the knob comes with little fanfare. Nothing built within this mystery is there to harm- it seems to simply be a door.

Pushing it open and peeking past reveals nothing but stagnant air. Quiet and peaceful, with a chill to the air that seems to cut through his thick coat- not like attire has ever mattered much within the ever-changing metaverse. You will be cold if it wishes you to be, and nearly melt into a puddle of sweat even if you were to bathe in ice.

He’s not entirely sure where the space behind this door is located in relation to the metaverse and reality. He can’t even sense what it holds, unlike most palaces. He’s completely powerless, to say the very least.

Shoes tap on the cold metal floors as he investigates. It looks like a prison, with cell upon cell lined along hallways ending in locked doors, countless cells visible behind the bars. He figures if it is locked, there is a way past in an available direction, as there always seems to be within the metaverse. Returning to beneath the entrance stairs leaves one unblocked way ahead. Following the only clear path leads him to a circular room, more cells lining the walls.

The cells do not draw his attention, instead he is much more drawn to the empty desk in the middle. Sifting through the papers brings him a surprise, finding what seems to be a file of himself, although the picture attached is of a him that has long passed. Something less entwined in the metaverse than he is now. He’d describe it as rather plain if anyone were around to ask.

Other than that, the file labels him as an ‘inmate’. Despite having a file specifically for him, the rest of the papers are blank, and offer no other clues to this odd place. If this were some sort of cognition of his own, he would have some semblance of- of control or familiarity with it, yet it remains a total mystery to him.

Trying the cell doors within the circular room gives him no luck- each one is locked, nothing differentiating one from the other. The complete lack of… anything, really leaves him nothing less to investigate, and he makes his way back to the door he entered through. 

It’s all very familiar, yet the most out of place he’s ever felt within the metaverse.

**Author's Note:**

> This is incredibly messy because i did a total of zero editing but I havent posted in months whoops anyway my brain spat this out and I wanted to share it good luck. Im bad at titles and Septette for the Dead Princess slaps so here you are.


End file.
